


Language Lessons, 9: amuco (1200 words)

by ImpOfPerversity



Series: Language Lessons [9]
Category: Baroque Cycle - Neal Stephenson, Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: 1 Sentence Fiction, Languages, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-04-03
Updated: 2005-04-03
Packaged: 2018-11-12 12:08:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11161536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImpOfPerversity/pseuds/ImpOfPerversity





	Language Lessons, 9: amuco (1200 words)

  
  
There were bones in the sand on this beach, some of 'em splintery and broken, all bleached with sun and salt; when Jack picked one up and measured it against himself it was just about the length of his forearm, knotted where it had been broken when still wrapped in living flesh, and healed badly; might've been his own bones here (all scarred and marked with childish accidents and more bellicose encounters), still might if Sparrow's negotiations went awry; that thought made Jack drop the heavy bone and tighten his other hand on a far superior weapon, the heavy broadsword that he'd found at the bottom of the _Black Pearl_ 's arms chest: "ooh, you don't want that," Stone, the quartermaster, had said, sucking on his lower lip, "nasty heavy old thing it is, just as like to drop it on your foot as take out an enemy with it, always assuming you can get it up, ha ha," and so on and so forth 'til Jack, exasperated, had struck a few poses and put on a little demonstration of defencing, aided and abetted by Captain Jack Sparrow, who'd herded his crew aside with a few concise remarks to make a space at the ship's waist where the two of them could lunge and parry, thrust and dodge and oh, the way Sparrow'd twisted out of the way of each air-splitting blow; it had made Jack eager to feel that lithe and sinewy form twisting against, into, his own body, and the fighting spirit that thrummed through his whole body had seemed to quiver on the cusp of something quite other, equally fierce but lustful rather than lethal; emboldened by this idea -- and not wishing to embarrass himself by revealing such urges (and their inevitable physical complement) to the company that'd assembled for this entertainment -- he'd fought, or played, like a man possessed by devils and not simply misled by the tricksy Imp that jigged and jabbered on his shoulder, and he'd forced Jack Sparrow, all gasping and dishevelled and wild-eyed, up against the rail, sword still in his hand but Jack too close in to strike; Jack hadn't wished to swing at Sparrow where it might damage his darling ship, and he wouldn't grab him and drag him off below, either, though Sparrow didn't look as though he'd have minded: _Jack_ had minded, though, and had not cared to court or caress there before all the men, never mind that only a deaf lackwit could've failed to register what Sparrow and Shaftoe got up to, in the cabin, every night and most mornings (dependent on the weather, which had been unfailingly clement this past week and more), and if the _Black Pearl_ 's company thought that it was _Jack_ who cried out, who swore and blasphemed and demanded ( _oh Christ Jack, now, please, now, oh Jack, **Ja-a-ack**_ ) more: well, p'rhaps they were right _some_ of the time, but what could a man do, eh, with Jack Sparrow pressed all naked 'gainst him, sweat springing, eyes alight, every part of him intent on ... Jack'd shaken his head, grinning, at the memory and the hope; the men'd been cheering him, calling out his name, and calling, too, some foreign word that Jack'd never heard -- **amuco** , or something like, no doubt akin to all those Spanish terms for love and romance and such effete sentiments -- but that'd made him scowl at what they thought of him; he'd sidestepped Sparrow's sly attack, saying low and clear for Jack's ears only, "I'll take you down, mate, and show you who's best, but not here, not right now;" and Jack Sparrow had grinned back at him, eyes narrowed and intent 'pon Jack in that way that made Jack's heart beat fast and furious, and he'd said, "you think so, eh? well, I'll hold you to that once we're back aboard this evening," which'd reminded Jack of their errand ashore, to this isolated speck of island far from any shipping-lane or port of call, this lair of some fabled figure whose name (Silver, or Steele, or something all metally and bright) Jack'd never heard before this past week, but whom Jack Sparrow was all intent on making acquaintance with, and common cause: Jack wondered if he'd aught to be jealous of, and then dismissed that thought with a smirk, for the heat between them had not lessened one whit through high latitudes and low, through ice and blazing sun, through storms and calms and tropical havens peopled (as far as Jack could recall) exclusively with nubile, amiable, bare-breasted females; through each and every day that divided him utterly, now, from the life he'd led in London Town, Jack Sparrow had impressed upon him (oft while pressing _into_ him) the quality and fervour of his regard: and, oh, there went the signal-gun, distracting Jack most rudely from his reverie; two shots, that meant all's well, and Jack could sheathe his sword and lope towards the boat, not finding it in himself to be sorry at a missed chance of bloodshed and mayhem -- there were sure to be others -- and keen to be back in Sparrow's company: Sparrow, already there, was in high spirits now, all sparkling and fiery and fit to draw Jack, or any living being, as a magnet draws iron, and he fixed Jack with a hot, piercing gaze, and simply _looked_ at him as the boat drew away from the shore, _looked_ at him until Jack felt his skin heating, hotter than any noontide sun could roast it, and he leaned forward and hissed at Sparrow, "what's amiss?"; Sparrow smirked at him, and narrowed his eyes (without appreciable lessening of that gaze) and whispered, "why, nothing, Jack: mayn't I look at you, eh?" all innocent, and Jack sat back and grinned, wide and sunny, and said, "ah, you're just vexed 'cause I beat you in a fair fight, earlier;" "really?" said Sparrow, with that sharp smile that showed all his gilded teeth, "but 'twasn't fair, Jack, for you were run **amuco** , and none could _stand_ before you," and, as if to remind Jack of other things that might, as it were, _stand_ , he rubbed his thumb suggestively over the rounded hilt of the dagger in his belt; Jack swallowed, and said thickly, "what's that, then?", aware of the others in the boat, not looking at the two of 'em but o so surely listening to every damning romantickal word; and Jack Sparrow said, all sweet, "why, Jack, 'tis a word from the Portuguese, though they had it from the people of those islands that lie betwixt the Pacific and the Indian oceans; and it signifies a man who runs wild, who attacks most furiously and slays whatever enemy -- aye, or any other -- comes in 'is way," and Sparrow paused, and licked his lips, and murmured, "and so you were, earlier, an' it impressed me something powerful, it did, to see you so ...": and Jack Shaftoe, shifting on the hard wooden bench, foresaw suddenly all manner of other ways in which he might run wild, in fitting company; ways that he might incite that wildness in Jack Sparrow, too.


End file.
